The Billionaire's Marriage: A Romance Novel

by Marshall, Marnie

  "Gail?" I call, knowing full-well our housekeeper's fondness for my wife and her likely proximity due to the undeniable distress she and Taylor had earlier hurried from. I have to assume Ryan is being kept far, far away.

  She appears in the archway almost instantly, face drawn.

  "The frozen towels for my workouts…" I nod toward the kitchen, not needing to say more. She immediately retrieves a handful, and a bottle of water as well, passing them to me over the back of the sofa, and then scurried away as quickly as she came.

  I unroll a frozen cloth one-handed, pressing the square gently to Krissy's splotchy cheek. The effect is immediate.

  Her eyes fly open, surprised and unfocused, her lungs miraculously heaving clearer breaths. I dab gently over her face, down her neck with enough pressure to keep her present but not to startle her further. Her breaths catch from time to time, but have slowed considerably.

  "You're not alone, baby," I manage, trying desperately to keep my voice from wavering. "You loved her, wanted her so much. I did too. You carried her, felt her inside you, every day she was with you. She felt how much you loved her. She felt how well you cared for yourself, for her. And I'm sure, wherever she is, that she misses you as well, and doesn't want you to be sad for her. That's not an easy thing to do, but know that I'm right here beside you. I know exactly what you're going through." I swallow back the overflow of my own fragile emotions. "You're not alone. I'm with you. And I miss her, too."

  Krissy's blinking, exhausted eyes move to share my gaze. She swallows. When she finally speaks, her voice is tiny, like a child's. "I'm so sorry," she murmurs.

  "Oh no, baby… don't be… it wasn't your fault," I stammer, my own emotional wall cracking and shifting. "And don't you dare apologize for not remembering, or for any of the preposterous things that are running wildly through your head right this minute. You're entitled to grieve. You are. There's nothing wrong with what you're feeling."

  Krissy turns her head into my shoulder again, not to weep… I'm not sure what she needs, and so I just hold her. I unroll another cloth and hold it gently to her forehead to remove the chill, and then press it to the back of her neck. She emits a small, resigned sigh.

  "I'm here, baby. I'm here for you. I'm always here for you. We'll get through this, together. I promise."

  The sun shifts, we must sit entwined in each other for hours. I have her sip some water. I don't bother her about food; neither of us is in any state for proper digestion. I break down with her a bit, once or twice when she asks me things, little things. What happened that day, what our baby girl looked like, where she was laid to rest. I answer each query as thoroughly and delicately as I can, and she absorbs everything, leaning against my chest in between. After a time, she drifts mercifully to sleep, and I gently lift her, carrying her to the bedroom, and settle her under the covers. I pray that her dreams will be kind to her.

  And then I go to pour myself a drink.

  "Sir," Taylor appears, cautiously.

  "Yes."

  "Your father called a while ago. Everything is fine, but he'd like you to return his call when you have a minute."

  I pull out my BlackBerry. Of course, death by vibration setting is a common occurrence in my pocket. I throw back the drink, the burn instantly dulling my nerves, and set the cut-glass tumbler on the counter.

  "Thank you, Taylor."

  "Anything I can do, Sir?"

  "No, thank you." I'm peripherally conscious that the man feels for me. I just don't have anything else to say to him. I find the nearest cordless and speed dial my father's cell.

  "Edward, glad you called."

  "Hello, Dad. How's Mom?"

  "Resting. She wanted to know if you'd be able to visit this evening, said you spoke about bringing our grandson by."

  "Oh… yes, I did… it's, um…" I have to fight to ward off a sudden wave of tears. Fucking bourbon.

  "Edward, are you all right?"

  I suck in a steeling breath. "Did Mom happen to mention what I shared with her last night?"

  "A bit, she said Krissy got lost. Incidentally, I received a rather frantic voicemail at the office when I forwarded yesterday's calls; she'd apparently tried reaching me through a listing in a phone book. Is she all right?"

  "Yes, well, sort of. Not really. We haven't talked much about yesterday. It's been a rough day."

  "Slow down, son. Tell me what happened."

  I explain, reluctantly what caused me to rush from the hospital yesterday afternoon, in slightly more detail than I had revealed to my mother. Dad listened patiently, and I know he wanted to interject when I mentioned potential police involvement, but he remained quiet until I'd finished.

  "Wow."

  "Yeah."

  "But she's all right?"

  "Physically, yes."

  "Physically?"

  I blow out the breath I'm holding. "As I said, we're having a bit of a rough day today."

  He waits. "If you'd rather not talk about it..."

  I steel myself. Aside from the breakdown late yesterday, my father and I don't generally… share. "She remembered the baby this morning, Dad."

  "Oh, Edward."

  I sniff. "Yeah. It's been… difficult. She's sleeping now."

  "That's… I can't imagine." I envision him shaking his head, at a loss for words, which he quickly rectifies. "I'm here for you, if you need anything."

  "I've got it handled, Dad… but thanks. Worry about Mom, all right? Let her know I'll bring Ryan by this evening if I can get away, or tomorrow. And please, don't tell her about this conversation. I'd rather tell her myself, when she's home and feeling better."

  "I understand. Give Krissy and Theodore my love."

  We hang up. Krissy has turned onto her side facing away when I return. I slide in behind her, draping an arm around her waist and pulling her to me.

  "You were gone," she murmurs.

  "Baby, I didn't know you were awake," I say. "I'm sorry, I had to return Dad's call. Mom's fine, don't worry."

  She just sighs. I lean in, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

  "Would you like some tea?" I ask.

  She shakes her head, her hair rustling smoothly against the satin of her pillowcase. "Did you get to see Grace?"

  "Mm-hmm. Last night, for a few minutes. I told her how badly I'd behaved toward you."

  She's quiet for a moment. "I shouldn't have left," she murmurs. "I should have stayed put. I don't know what I was thinking."

  "Tell me."

  "I don't…"

  "Tell me what happened," I interrupt. "I know what you told Jason, but I want to hear it from you. I want to know everything."

  She rolls back toward me, and I scoot over so she has room to lie on her back. I prop my head on my hand, my eyes tracing her face, from the little 'v' between her eyebrows, her little nose, reddened from the last few hours' tears, her pouty pink lips. She returns my gaze a little warily. "I'm kind of mad at you," she says, hesitantly.

  "You have every right to be," I say, quietly absorbing the shock of her words. I keep my own ire, miniscule in size but as ever-present as her lack of self-preservation, to myself. It isn't worth the angst, and I gave up my right to be angry yesterday evening. Besides, whatever self-battering I deserve pales into insignificance, when compared to the monumentally more important issues on our expansive table.

  She turns her eyes away, her gaze moving down the bed, toward her toes. It's an effort to avoid me, but she surprises me again when she continues.

  "I had every intention of calling you. I sent Hannah with Luke, he didn't seem too happy about the arrangement… but I was going to use the restroom and then call you so you wouldn't worry. I wanted to check out some of the shops, I'm not sure why. I don't really like shopping. I guess I just wanted to revel in the freedom of being out a little longer." Her eyes flicker toward mine, and then back down her body to where her fingers clasped over the hollow of her belly.

  "The episode was stupid. I was in the restroom, and
the ad on the stall door changed. It could have been anywhere, but I think it might have been at a party or something… there was obnoxiously loud music. There was lots of purple… anyway, when I came back, I knew I hadn't passed out because I was still standing, so I went to find Ryan to tell him what happened. I couldn't find him anywhere. I went outside and didn't see him immediately, but further away I saw someone jogging away that might have been him, and I tried to follow. When I turned the corner where I'd last seen him, he was gone."

  "He was tracking your phone," I interject.

  She nods. "Taylor told me a little about that. I kept going for a while, but it dawned on me that I didn't have my bag, so I went back, or I thought I was… I couldn't find the restaurant. I felt so incredibly stupid. I was so afraid you'd fire Ryan and Sawyer for sure…"

  "The thought had crossed my mind," I mutter.

  "Please don't! I… I like them both. They… listen to me."

  I raise my eyebrows. "I listen to you," I remind her.

  She cocks her head to the side, as if to say, 'Yeah, right.'

  I shake my head, eyes closed. "Point taken. I will try to do better. Please, continue."

  She sighs. "There was a little bookstore nearby, and I went in and asked to use the phone… but I didn't know anyone's number. When I was a kid, I knew everybody's number by heart, both my parents, my friends, home and cell phone alike… but now they get stored behind a name and a picture on a smartphone, so no need to memorize them. The guy behind the counter dug up a local phone book. You're nowhere in there, your company isn't even listed, by the way. I looked for your parents, your brother, your sister, Kate… even the Taylors, and now in hindsight I should have looked up Dr. Flynn… but I did see a half page ad for a law practice and it had your dad's picture on it, so I called and left a message. I hope it doesn't freak him out when he hears it."

  "He already did, and I've cleared it up. Why didn't you call the police, love? They would have been more than willing to collect you."

  "I… didn't think of that," she mumbles, worrying her fingers together. "The next thing I thought of was the hospital, and the bookstore guy gave me directions. I just started walking. I figured even if your mom wasn't on call, someone there would know her and be able to get her a message." She sighs. "It took forever. I got turned around a couple of times."

  "And you fell, I gather."

  "She nods, her hair rustling the pillow again. Uneven sidewalk meets strappy sandals. They were so comfortable early on… not so much after a hike through downtown."

  "Baby, you literally crossed Seattle. I'm shocked no one recognized you."

  "I think somebody did, once or twice… maybe I looked mean and so they left me alone."

  "I don't think it's possible for you to look mean, Kristina."

  "I can look mean," she says indignantly, piercing me with her gaze.

  "Oh… the horror…" I clutch my chest, falling back onto my own pillow and squeezing my eyes shut. "I can't look… it's far too terrifying…" I wait for a reaction to my sudden silliness, but when met with several seconds of silence, I crack an eyelid, only to find Krissy staring down at me, her expression mildly amused.

  "Very funny."

  "I thought so." I rearrange myself again, leaning on an elbow this time. "You have my full attention."

  "Hmph." She turns her eyes downward again. "I don't know how long it actually took to get there. The bigger buildings cast pretty long shadows, so I gathered it was getting late. I went in through the emergency entrance; it looked like they were dealing with some kind of car wreck drama, pretty nasty, actually… so I waited a little while at the desk for a nurse to get back. The first one I talked to knew Grace immediately and she asked me if I knew. Of course at that time I had no idea, but she made me sit while she cleaned my knee and then she took me upstairs. That's when I found Elliot, and he told me. And the rest, you know."

  I sigh. "You're amazing, Krissy."

  "I'm mad, is what I am."

  "I know."

  "Do you?" she says, her volume increasing. "Do you have any idea how confused and horrible I feel, being mad at you after the day you had? How guilty I feel? And now, after this morning…" her voice shakes, eyes crinkling shut. Sobs threaten to bubble forth, as treacherously as before… or more so. "I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry…"

  A relic of the man I used to be, the persona I once maintained with utmost efficacy, nags at me with a fierceness I'd not experienced since… I perish the thought. But I feel what's happening. She's begun to spiral, my dear, sweet wife, my best friend, my reason for living… and I realize in that moment that I may hold the key to pulling her back from the edge. "Kristina Rose, don't you dare start this again," I command her, pulling her to me, tightly, almost painfully. "I will not allow you to do this to yourself." My voice is low… calm as ever, powerful, quiet. Dominant. "You're not responsible for anything that has happened. Not for my mother. Not for the baby," my voice cracks. "And certainly not for the way I spoke to you last night. Do you understand?"

  She nods, whimpering. The cascade of torment has slowed in her, my body so attuned to hers that I literally feel the demons slipping away, summarily defeated. I press a rough kiss to the top of her head and then rest my cheek over the spot, calling my own to leave me. "I love you. I hate that you went through that yesterday. I hate that my mother ignored her headaches until she collapsed from a damned aneurysm. I hate that a drunk driver took our daughter from us and that you almost went with her…" I grip her tighter when I hear her whimpers break through, "… but what I hate most, the one thing I abhor more than any other, is when the person I love, more than my own life, takes responsibility for others' wrongdoings. It's akin to putting your life at risk; only it's your soul that takes the undue whipping. You'll have to pardon the term; I know that it troubles you."

  My hold on her prevents movement, but she isn't fighting me. Her breaths are quick, puffing against my chest. It's an attempt to regain control, I can feel it… I know the signs well enough from my own struggles. "I love you, Kristina. You're part of me. An extension of my life, and I'm yours. I'll be here for you, with you, no matter what. We'll always have each other. You need to let it all go… every single thing that has you under siege. All of it, whatever plagues you." I sigh, heavily. "And then, though I hardly deserve it, I need you to forgive me."

  She whispers something into my chest, curls her fingers to clutch my shirt tightly in her hands.

  "I didn't hear you, baby," I say, my voice low.

  "I do."

  My sudden gasp isn't lost on her.

  Through the remnants of tears brought on by her struggle for control, her eyes shine like sapphires, connecting powerfully with my own. And then, her lips meet mine.

  The crash of mouths and tongues, caressing, loving, desperately searching for something lost. Her hands are in my hair, instantly, exactly the way she'd handled me from the beginning and my heart swells, thrashing wildly in my chest. My body stirs powerfully, greedy with hunger. God, I need her.

  "Let's get married," she pulls away suddenly, sitting up in bed.

  "What?" I gasp, my brain catching up to… other areas.

  "Today, right now. You wanted to; let's go, let's do it. I want to get married to you."

  And she accuses me of mood swings. My breaths fill my chest, but they don't help me to release sounds that may be construed as words.

  "Edward? Isn't that what you wanted?"

  "I… yes, but is it what you want?" I manage.

  She shrugs. "I don't want to wait anymore. For the right time, the right circumstance, anything. This is it. I'm ready. I don't need some lost memories to tell me how to feel about you. I know how I feel. I want you to be my husband, and I want to be your wife, in every way. So let's do it right. Let's get married. Right now."

  "Now? Uh…" I grasp at some semblance of a plan. For the first time, I haven't one. I chuckle, more of a giggle at first, but it blossoms into all-out hysterical laughter. />
  Krissy's face falls, and I struggle to take back control.

  "Baby, don't look at me that way, I'm not laughing at you, I promise," I tell her, sitting back onto my heels and gripping her hands in mine. "I haven't the faintest idea where to begin, and I always have a plan. Oh, you must think I'm ridiculous." I lean in, pressing my lips to hers. "Give me a minute, I'll think of something." Kissing her chastely once more, I pull myself from her, striding purposefully toward the door. Something dawns on me, and I turn back, my hand on the cool brass door handle.

  "Is there anything you'd like in particular? Would you like me to call your father to come?"

  She shakes her head without hesitation. "Let's do this just for us. I just want it to be you and me. And Ryan, of course."

  I nod, processing the request. Flashing my thousand-megawatt smile, I break from the room with a "get dressed" on my lips.

  Oh, what to do, how to make this perfect… I ponder, my legs carrying me through the house and into my study. It's a beautiful day, it should be outside. Flowers… no, that would require time, I'll have Ben gather some from the gardens for her. We'll do it here… down by the water, yes, that's perfect. We'll bring Ryan, say a few vows… perhaps someone to officiate? My thoughts flip through the staff, but none seems quite appropriate, but a figure does dawn on me. I pick up my BlackBerry from the cradle charger… Taylor must have placed it there earlier. I marvel momentarily at how seamlessly our needs are handled. If I was put-off by my staff's actions of yesterday, I am no longer. I press the speed dial.

  "Hello?"

  "John? King. I need a favor."

  ~ KRISSY ~

  "Ryan, guess what?"

  My son blinks drowsily at me, waking from what might have been a very long nap. His grumpy little expression tells me that he's not exactly happy to have been disturbed. "We're going to do something very special today, Ryan," I tell him. "I need your help, okay? Then we'll do something fun, just for you. How does that sound?"

  He regards me sleepily, and sighs. I giggle and kiss his chubby cheek. He passively considers my mood as I wrestle him out of his naptime pajamas, helping him out of his overnighters and into pull-ups, a clean, white shirt and elastic khaki pants, finishing with little black leather slip-ons over his already-socked feet. My knee-length cream cocktail dress contrasts nicely… I hope it's appropriate enough. It'll have to be. I don't care at this point; the excitement of sealing my little family together again rushes the particulars from the realm of necessity. No more dwelling. No more processing of adverse emotions today… right now, it's just my family who matters, who needs me to take my place within it. My family, the one I hadn't anticipated, but the only one I'll ever want.